


Tired Eyes

by MAVEfm



Category: Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Birthday, Crushes, Cute, First Kiss, Fluff, Idiots in Love, Late Night Conversations, M/M, Minnesota, like really soft, soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-23
Updated: 2018-04-23
Packaged: 2019-04-26 15:12:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14404776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MAVEfm/pseuds/MAVEfm
Summary: It was just one of those nights.





	Tired Eyes

  
  
  


Spencer waved goodbye from his driveway as Jon put the car in gear, the street lights turning the purple night orange. 

 

It was only an hour after sunset, the sky still clinging to blue and the mid-March chill just settling low to the ground, frosting up the dark bushes and over the windshields of stationary cars. “See you,” He said, craning his neck out the window to wave back.

 

Spencer folded his hands close to his body and made his way back into the house.

 

“Hm,” Brendon hummed from the backseat and fiddled with aux cord connected to Jon’s radio.

 

He played something soft. A pastel green.

 

It was just one of those nights.

 

“You want to get something to eat?”

 

Jon looks over at him when he guides the car into a soft stop at the corner of Dorset and Hampton. He’s wearing his glasses instead of his contacts, and his jean jacket is too big for him, so he’s had a hoodie on underneath.

 

He looks tired, but not sleepy.

 

“Like what?” Jon asks.

 

Brendon blinks, and shrugs, “Ramen sounds nice.”

 

Jon nods, “Okay.”

 

He turns the car away from Brendon’s neighborhood.

 

His fingers twitch and Brendon rubs his eyes, pressing the button to roll down the window.

 

The air is crisp and ruffles Brendon’s hair, heavy brown locks that had grown out scruffy on the sides, longer than he usually allowed it to get. Jon’s heart is beating a bit faster now.

 

The drive to the Express for noodles was one he’d taken hundreds of times, and now he feared he would get lost. His eyes lingered on passing headlights and his head felt heavy.

 

“Thanks,” Brendon had folded himself onto the seat, his chin resting on his knees, “I’m really hungry.”

 

“Me too,” Jon said, one hand over the other on the wheel.

 

For a while, theirs was the only car on the road, and the red of the stoplight reflected on Brendon’s glasses. Jon tried to breathe normally.

 

They parked in the Express parking lot the day succumbed fully to night, dark blue.

 

“Wonder what Ryan had for dinner,” Brendon slammed the car door and stretched when his Chuck’s hit the tar, his fingers reaching for the cosmos, he groans and puffs the cold air.

 

“He had some leftovers, I remember,” Jon fumbled with his keys.

 

The Express was the only light for miles it seemed, a soft orange fog reaching out into the night and connecting to streetlights. The door jingled when they stepped in and someone behind the counter greeted them, Jon waved back and Brendon slid into a corner table.

 

Jon ordered a large bowl, casting glances back at his hunched form. His jean jacket wrinkling around his shoulders and his head bowed to rest on his forearms.

 

Jon slid his jacket off.

 

They eat with clumsy chopsticks and Brendon has his mouth so full that pork spilled over his lips. He clenched them tight to keep it still and Jon snorted loudly.

 

Brendon wiped his mouth after a minute, “Shut up,” He said, smiling too.

 

It was one of those nights.

 

Jon regarded him softly.

 

They took a walk, side by side, around the block, hands tucked tightly into pockets and phones forgotten in the car.

 

“Thanks,” Brendon said again.

 

“No, I was hungry too.”

 

“No, about…”

 

“About helping you feed yourself like a baby?”

 

Brendon snorted and elbowed him, casting his eyes to the ground. He kicked out with his Chuck’s. “About today, I guess, you didn’t have to.”

 

“Ryan should get a good birthday,” Jon shrugged.

 

“Yeah,” Brendon agreed and they walked a block further, over the bridge and past the geese settling in on the lakeshore for the night. Jon yawned.

 

Brendon yawned.

 

They turned down the State Trail.

 

Jon took a deep breath in.

 

And out.

 

His eyelids felt heavy.

 

“Gas station,” Brendon pointed to their left, “Wanna Arizona?”

 

“Southern Style,” Jon nodded.

 

Brendon paid and they passed the can between them, sitting lazily on the curb. Jon stretched his legs out onto the street and Brendon stayed hunched and folded together, tight. 

 

A wind stirred the tops of the trees.

 

“They’re saying it’ll snow again,” Jon commented.

 

“Hm,” Brendon said, “Maybe.”

 

Jon pressed his thumbs into his palms.

 

Brendon stood and stretched again, driving his hoodie past the hem of his pants, he pulled it back down and Jon looked up.

 

The stars were hidden by the buzzing lights of the gas station.

 

He stood and they began to head back.

 

“I meant… Earlier, I mean,” Brendon began halfway down the State Trail, “I meant to thank you, from me, for the ramen.”

 

“It’s really no problem,” Jon fussed with his hair.

 

“I just…” Brendon kicked again and his hair bounced, “I didn’t really want to go home right away.”

 

Jon nodded.

 

The car sat waiting.

 

Brendon played something soft again, a light blue.

 

It was just one of those nights.

 

Jon lost the empty Arizona to the backseat and Brendon closed his eyes.

 

The streets were wide here, cracked and rough. The trees were old and tall and framed the street with shadowy leaves and Jon wondered if he would get lost while Brendon trusted him enough to fall asleep in the passenger seat. Soft eyelashes and laughter, his arms folded over his chest.

 

Jon blushed for real.

 

He was glad it was dark.

 

Just one of those nights.

 

His eyes fluttered open when another car passed by.

 

“Go up here,” He pointed, “Empty lot,” He spoke through a haze of sleep.

 

Empty lot was right.

 

Just tall grass and willow trees and a for sale sign marked in red and blue.

 

They both clambered out into the grass and Brendon coaxed him to lay down with him. The streetlights were miles away.

 

They both held their heads with their hands, elbows touching only by the fabric of their jackets.

 

“Wish I had a blunt,” Brendon gazed up at the stars, brown eyes like cinnamon and leather. “I come out here to smoke sometimes.”

 

“It’s okay without one,” Jon shrugged, “Beautiful stars and soft grass.”

 

“What?” Brendon yawned.

 

“Nothin’.”

 

Jon felt his jeans getting soaked through, so he stood and helped Brendon back up to his feet.

 

And the drive home felt like it stretched into eons.

 

Brendon’s porch light shone through a mesh screen, “They’ll be asleep, probably.”

 

Jon pressed his hands between his thighs, “Latchkey kids,” He said, echoing Spencer from earlier in the night.

 

“Latchkey kids,” Brendon chimed back, upbeat and golden, “And it’s close to midnight.”

 

He hesitated.

 

“Walk me up?”

 

Jon nodded.

 

He hadn’t noticed before, but Brendon was taller than him.

 

He sighed.

 

Brendon invited him into the porch and they stopped on the welcome mat.

 

“We’ll do this again,” Brendon insisted, “More birthdays coming up.”

 

Jon nodded and something pressed in his throat, “Definitely,” He looked down at his shoes.

 

Brendon made no move to go inside, but picked at his thumbnail, a breeze stirred his hair.

 

Jon asked himself to look up.

 

Look up!

 

Brendon sighed, sleepiness lacing his every gesture.

 

“Well,” Jon mumbled, “Goodnight.”

 

“‘Night,” Brendon mumbled back, “Jon?” His voice was husky and Jon felt blood rush.

 

He looked up and the lump disappeared.

 

“I just…” Brendon shrugged, “You know?”

 

Jon stood as tall as he could, suddenly, brushing his fingertips onto Brendon’s cheek. Brendon stood still, eyes drooping with tired.

 

It took Jon a second, pushing his head forward and up and then, drowsy, he brushed his lips past Brendon’s.

 

Brendon breathed in something sharp, excited.

 

Jon hurried back, “Goodnight.” 

 

He clambered down the steps and the stairs groaned and Brendon was frozen to the welcome mat-

 

There was a shrill squeak and the front door slammed shut.

 

Jon dropped his keys.

 

His hands shook.

 

His head swirled like ramen and Arizona Ice Tea.

 

The front door slammed again and Brendon’s Chuck’s slapped the pavement and his hands were on Jon’s cheeks all sloppy. A breeze stirred his hair into odd angles and Jon stared at brown bear eyes and copper pennies.

 

Brendon hugged him after a second of just staring, tight around the neck, coiled to burst and cheek to cheek and Jon, giddy, hugged back.

 

Brendon kissed him back, harder and more sudden, just like he was. Hands in hair and fingers trapped.

 

The front door slammed again and Jon started his car.

 

The porch light flickered out and the passenger seat was empty.

 

It was just one of those nights.

 

 


End file.
